Captured by Moonlight

by Nancy Gideon

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she growled. “I’m not the one who had someone else’s wife crawling all over him.” He just stared at her until she took an anguished breath. “Oh, God, what a thing to say. What a terrible thing to say. I’m sorry.” She turned her head to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. This wasn’t the right time for this, the right place. But there was no reining in her runaway fears.

  “Is he yours?” she blurted out suddenly.

  “Who?”

  “Oscar.” Her voice choked with suppressed emotion. “Is he your son?”

  Shock set him back in his seat. “What? No.” Then his tone gentled. “Is that what you thought, Charlotte?”

  “I’m not the only one thinking it.”

  “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. Just you.” His brows drew in close. “Why would you ask me that?”

  She rubbed her eyes with an unsteady hand. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m too tired to put two thoughts together.”

  He reached for her, his hand lightly rubbing her shoulder. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

  She looked at him, her eyes dulled with weariness and hurt. “Since the last time you were next to me.” She took a shaky breath then asked, “Could you just hold me, Max?”

  He opened his arm wide and patted his chest. “Right here, sha.”

  She scooted across the seat to slip her arms around him, to burrow her face into the damp lapel of his coat and tuck her knees up tight. Encircled by his warmth, his familiar scent, by his all-encompassing care, she closed her eyes and finally let the tension ease from her body and mind.

  He brushed his fingers over her in light, soothing gestures.

  “I’m so sorry, cher.”

  She made a soft sound and tried to get her mind to resurface. “What? About what?”

  He laid his cheek atop her head. “I’ve hurt you. I’ve frightened you. I’ve made you ill and unhappy. This isn’t good, what’s going on between us. It’s not what either of us wants.”

  “Are you…are you breaking up with me, Max?” Her voice was soft in the storm of his own confusion. “Is that what you want? If it is, I’ll just go now.”

  His embrace ratcheted up like handcuffs, holding her fast against him. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.

  Then he heard Stan Schoenbaum’s vile claim that none of them would watch her back. Because of him.

  “It would be best for now, don’t you think? Until things get sorted through.”

  She was very still. In a quiet, reasonable tone, she asked, “Is that what you think? That it would be better for both of us to be apart?”

  “Yes. That’s what I think.” But he couldn’t get his body language to support his words. His breath came in quick, desperate snatches. He was kneading her hip and shoulder possessively, rocking slightly as he rubbed his face over her hair.

  “Then I’ll go.” Even as his heart quaked, she added, “As soon as you tell me that you don’t love me enough, that you don’t need me or want me enough to get through this together. If you don’t want me with you, I’ll go. But you have to say it, and you have to make me believe it. Then I’ll stay away until you ask me to come back.”

  She lifted her head and leveled a stare with those gun barrel-direct eyes.

  He’d spent a lifetime denying what he felt, what he needed, what he wanted in his soul. He could turn those things off like a switch—and be in darkness again.

  He took a breath, a diver going under where waters were cold and unforgiving, but at least familiar. His gaze went cool and opaque, his expression smoothly blank. All he had to do was repeat the words.

  She waited to hear them, her stare daring him, doubting him even when he began in a low, firm voice.

  “I don’t want you with me. I don’t need you with me.”

  There was no change in her expression. Not the slightest flicker, so he kept on.

  “I don’t love you enough—”

  He choked.

  He tried to take a breath and couldn’t. He tried to hold her stare, but suddenly couldn’t see at all.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m such a coward.” He closed his eyes, letting his forehead rest on her shoulder. “I can’t get through a day without knowing you’re there for me. But I don’t know how else to keep you safe. I don’t know what to do. You must despise me.”

  She kissed the top of his head, then buried her fingers in his hair. “You are so dense sometimes. But you’re mine—and I absolutely cannot let you go. Haven’t you figured it out yet, Max? Our strength is in each other. You know I’m right, don’t you?”

  A pause. A slight nod. “Yes. Okay. Yes.”

  “Then you can thank me for coming to that conclusion. Right here, Savoie. Thank me.”

  He slid a glance up to where she tapped her mouth with two fingers, and almost smiled.

  “A kiss? Is that what you want?”

  “Well, world peace would be nice. But right now, I want the kiss.”

  Obligingly, he skimmed his lips over hers. Lightly, like the first delicate spring shower on parched ground. And with a welcoming moan she opened for him, letting him drink deeply from her well of sweet longing. He eased back with a few quick nibbles, then guided her head down to his shoulder. She rode his huge sigh with intense satisfaction.

  “We’ll talk,” he promised, “but first you’ll sleep.”

  “We both will.”

  Holding her close, he shut his eyes. “Yes.” Knowing he’d be able to, at last.

  Giles returned to the car and blinked at the sight of them curled up together. As he hesitated, Max murmured, “Just drive for a couple of hours or so. It doesn’t matter where.”

  Shrugging, Giles started the car and eased out of the crowded lot. He had a sudden taste for hot sauce over in Lafayette.

  In the backseat, Cee Cee rubbed her cheek against the Max’s shirt and was seduced by the thunder of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

  “I love you, baby,” she whispered, drifting off again.

  “Back atcha, cher.” A long silence. Then, before he knew she was asleep, he whispered, “Charlotte, I think he’s my brother.”

  Fourteen

  RESTED FROM THEIR sleep, it was time to talk.

  It was too early for Cheveux du Chien to have many customers. At Max’s back table, they were undisturbed as Cee Cee began to drag the whole truth from him. Or at least as much of it as he was willing to give her.

  She was still wearing her court suit, and her ankle was screaming abuse because of her dress shoes. Max had her foot in his lap, and was doing marvelous things with his hands as he quietly told her about Schoenbaum’s threats and his fear of her being out on the streets without backup.

  “That pig. That jerk. That…Argh! I’d like to pinch him like a fat tick.”

  “Would you like me to do that for you, cher?” Max asked mildly. His gaze lifted from his study of her toes to regard her with a cool elevation of his brows. Waiting.

  She wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not. “No. But thank you for the offer.”

  He shrugged. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  She caught the faint trace of his smile and was relieved. “Max, no one is going to leave me hanging out to dry on the streets. That’s not how things work. These guys have had my back, and I’ve had theirs for a decade. Okay? Schoenbaum only told you that to rile you up and scare you.”

  “He did a good job,” Max admitted.

  That got her temper percolating—thinking of the worry the arrogant vice detective had caused him. She’d have a talk with Stan, and because she wasn’t a fool, she’d watch her back more carefully.

  “I know how important your job is to you,” he continued. “The fact that Jimmy used to curse you over his morning coffee practically every day is a testimonial to how good you are at it.”

  She shared his slight smile and waited for him to go on, her gut tensing because she didn’t like where he was heading, any more than he liked
going there.

  “I don’t want to take any of that from you, Charlotte. I don’t want you to be less than you are, to compromise yourself because of me.”

  “You let me worry about walking that line.”

  He cupped the back of her head in his hand. “I do worry, because I can see how difficult I’ve made things for you. And I’m so proud of who you are.”

  “We’re sharing drawer space, Savoie. I don’t take that lightly. And that’s worth a little heat from the department now and then. I’m not going to fold just because things get difficult.”

  “The things I’ve done, the things I haven’t told you about—”

  She cut him off. “Are done. We can’t change them; we can only deal with them. Accept them.” She smiled slightly. Father Furness would be glad to hear she’d finally gotten the message. “The things in our pasts are what make it possible for us to be together in spite of everything else.”

  A faint smile. “And you don’t see the irony in that, detective?”

  “Irony is my middle name.” Then she asked, “These things you’ve done, you’re not doing them anymore, right?”

  “Only nine-to-five.” Seeing her eyes widen in alarm, he said. “No, Detective Caissie. I have been behaving myself. I want . . .”

  “What?”

  He looked uncomfortable, then confessed, “I want you to be proud of me, too. I want to go places with you and have your friends see me as something more than Jimmy Legere’s trained killer.”

  She touched his face. “To hell with them. I love you, Max. I want to be with you.”

  He rubbed his cheek into her palm. “But is that going to be enough, if it’s all we can ever have? I want a life with you, Charlotte. I want a home, family, children, respect. I want to invite your friends over for beer and softball without them spitting on me. I want to play catch with our son.”

  She flinched away. Was it the thought of having a family with him?

  She held his gaze and asked, “And what if you can never have those things with me?”

  “Then I’ll deal with it, Charlotte. Having you in my drawers is all I need. The first time you kissed me, you gave me everything I’d ever desired. The rest is optional.”

  His mood took a sultry turn as his hand eased up her smooth, nylon-clad leg.

  “Am I enough for you, sha?”

  “I don’t know, Savoie. Let me think about it.”

  But she was leaning toward him, her lips parting. The taste of her was wild and hot and got his blood pounding in his chest. Her tongue touched his coyly, teasing him, then she sucked him in hungrily. He let himself be devoured.

  His hand followed the sleek curve of her thigh under her skirt, drawn to the heat of her, which throbbed beneath his palm with a reckless, wanting beat of its own. The slow rub and circle of his thumb startled a voluptuous shudder from her and the quick, hard gasp of his name. Her scent was like a potent drug, filling his senses, dazing his mind, waking the beast in him.

  As a low sound rumbled through him, she tensed and began to push away.

  He wasn’t inclined to let her move.

  His free arm hooked about her waist and pulled until her chair butted up against his and her injured leg rode up his almost to his crotch. The more she resisted, the firmer he held on, so she relaxed, easing her hands across his shoulders, stroking her fingers through his hair.

  “Easy, baby. Easy. Now’s not the right time for this. I want you, too. But not here.”

  With a snarl he shoved back, rising in a taut, lethal move. Her heel dropped from his lap, hitting the floor with teeth-grinding pain.

  “Not here. Not there. Not anywhere,” Max growled, pacing tightly around the table. “There is no right time for us anymore. Just No and Stop and Don’t.” He pressed the heels of his hands to his temples, then crossed his arms behind his head, his body rocking.

  Cee Cee watched him, feeling his pain and distress. It got worse every night, and she was afraid for him. Afraid of him. How long before he lost the ability to control what raged inside him?

  “Max,” she called softly, aware that others were looking their way. “Come sit with me. It’s all right. Come here, baby.”

  He hesitated, then dropped back into his chair, bending forward so that his head rested on her knees. Gingerly, she stroked his dark hair as he moaned in a strange, rough voice, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Max. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  A low, anguished laugh. “No. No, it’s not.”

  She wasn’t sure what to do with him. Take him home where nothing, no one, could restrain him? But she had no idea how long he would listen to her voice. Stay here, where being among his own kind tempted his waning will?

  He clutched at her legs. In a voice that sounded almost like his own, he whispered, “I don’t know what I’m doing, Charlotte. Don’t let me hurt anyone. Don’t let me hurt you.”

  How was she supposed to prevent it?

  He rubbed his cheek over the tops of her thighs, looking up at her through eyes hot and fever bright.

  She touched his face gently. His skin burned beneath the slick of sweat. And she told him quietly, determinedly, “I’ll keep you safe.”

  He sat up and reached for his water glass, his hands unsteady as he gulped it down. The jerky, twitchy motions reminded her of the countless addicts she’d seen stressing out for the lack of a fix. What would it take to fix him?

  But it wasn’t really a question—because she knew. She knew what he needed.

  The club began to fill up with familiar faces. Max greeted them with restless energy, his smile a quick flash, his conversation flowing with reckless animation. And all the while, he clutched at her hand, fingers kneading hers in fierce spasms. His eyes stayed half shut. She knew if he looked up at her, there’d be no trace of their beautiful green color. He was slipping away from her.

  Whenever one of the women drew near, a noticeable tension stretched through him. His gaze would slant toward them as he slowly drew in their scent. Then he’d catch himself and bring Charlotte’s hand up for a hurried kiss, rubbing her palm against his flushed cheek so he could inhale her unique fragrance to regain an awkward balance. He wouldn’t look up at her and she was glad, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. Torment, violence, perhaps even resentment.

  “Let’s go home,” she suggested worriedly, hating the way his nature battled against his conscience.

  His gaze flew up to hers briefly and the anguish in them ripped her heart in two.

  “No. Let’s stay here for a while. Until I feel better.”

  He didn’t want to be alone with her. He was afraid to be alone with her. He preferred to suffer in company than risk seeking ease with her.

  “Max, come home with me. Let me make it better.”

  He froze when she leaned toward him. As her lips grazed his, he moved his head sharply to the side. “No. There’s nothing you can do for me. Just keep your distance. Just be with me. I can ride it out. Please don’t make things more difficult for me.”

  She touched his shoulder lightly, feeling helpless and anxious. “I won’t, baby. I won’t.” When she stood, his gaze jumped to her face in alarm. “Just a quick trip to the ladies’ room. Will you be all right?”

  “Sure. Sure.”

  He looked like hell.

  Before she could consider what she was about to do, Cee Cee wove her way to the bar where Jacques LaRoche was chatting with several patrons. When he saw her, he came down to her end, smiling.

  “Charlotte.”

  “I need you to do something for me. No questions.”

  LaRoche made it easy for her. He didn’t look up from the glass he was polishing. “Anything. Ask.”

  “I’m going to go home and I want you to keep Max here. I want you to get him so drunk he can’t think, so drunk he can’t control what he is, or stop himself from what he needs to do.”

  “Which is what, exactly?”

  Anguish and frustr
ation flooded her face with hot color. “Dammit, Jacques, do I have to spell it out? Get him laid.”

  That brought his head up. He blinked. “Say what?”

  She leveled a fierce stare. “You know what’s going on with him. He won’t let me take care of it, and I can’t stand watching it tear him apart. We need to get past this before it tears us apart. You must know any number of your women who are willing to be with him. Don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  She took a breath, her courage faltering before pride muscled in. “I don’t want to know any details. I don’t want to know who she is. But I want her to know one thing.” Her gaze chilled. “It’s just tonight. Just this once. He’s mine and I will not share. If she ever comes near him again or thinks to make any demands, I will not be merciful.”

  “I believe you. And I’ll make sure she does, too. Are you sure you want to do this? He loves you, and he’s no fool. He’ll know you’re not okay with it.”

  “I hate it, dammit. But I love him. I love everything about him, everything he is. And this is a part of it. He won’t let me help him through it, so I’ll just have to deal with it. And I don’t know any other way. Do you?”

  “No. I’m sorry. Just the old-fashioned way.”

  She nodded grimly.

  “Charlotte? If there’s a child?”

  The thought was a cold blade to her womb. But she didn’t flinch as she said, “I will love any part of him.”

  “I’ll see to him for you, and I’ll send him back to you.”

  “Tomorrow. Not tonight. I’m not quite that brave.”

  “You sell yourself short, cher. I think you can stand anything you put your mind to.”

  “Anything but losing him. Good night, Jacques.”

  “You amaze me, Charlotte.”

  She didn’t feel amazing or strong or noble as she approached their table. She slowed her step and forced the tension from her muscles so Max wouldn’t sense something was wrong. She came up behind his chair to touch the back of his head. He leaned back into her palm, his eyes lifting.

  Immediately, he frowned. “What is it?”

  “I have to go. I just got a call.”

  “Something bad?”